


Descendants

by RedHorse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Controlling behaviors, Dimension Travel (sort of), F/F, Infatuation, time travel (sort of)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-07 05:02:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18613690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHorse/pseuds/RedHorse
Summary: Wizarding space collapsed and Harry Potter disappeared on the same day. His daughter Lily tracks down Delphini, a magical prodigy and famous Seer, to help find him.A Seer can skip through the multiverse and pay brief visits to parallel worlds at a variety of times. In a world of near-infinite possibilities, the Seer can gauge the likeliest versions of the past, present and future in their own timeline, but no one can know anything for certain.





	1. Dying Oath

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Wolf_of_Lilacs for beta reading!

_ Harry walked into the Forest. _

 

_ It was a warm evening. The insects took a noisy with delight in the pressing humidity which made Harry sweat freely beneath his robes. He felt the Forest rake him with its magic at the periphery, and for a terrible moment, he thought it would devour him. But it quaked and shuddered and subsided instead, letting him pass. _

 

_ Harry looked up at the sky a final time before he stepped fully into the dim embrace of the trees. _

 

_ Sirius was low and bright. Harry took heart, and walked on. _

 

* * *

 

The last time she saw her father, Lily was furious with him.

 

She’d been in her trainee’s office. It was in the massive, lowest level of the Ministry dedicated to the overflow of various departments, which they casually called the Pit. But as soon as she’d read the notice, she was stalking toward the stairs.

 

Beth Johnson, the bearer of bad news, hurried after Lily like a nervous shadow, her brow furrowed in distress.

 

“Lily, um, don’t you think…?”

 

“What?” Lily had reached the elevator and was inside, punching the button for the first floor viciously. Beth hovered outside the doors, stricken.

 

“Maybe it’s for the best? You are just a trainee—“

 

The doors swept closed, and thankfully Lily didn’t have to hear anything else. She crossed her arms tightly, tapping her foot and trying not to let what felt like very righteous anger dissipate.

 

But by the time the doors open and she stepped out, she was only half as angry as she’d been in the Pit. She held onto what was left as she walked down the corridor to the third door on her left, Golden, fifteen feet tall and marked “Head Auror, Harry Potter.”

 

Lily rapped on the doors as hard as she could, and the spell that struck a balance between the identity of the person asking to come in and the Head Auror’s present workload and availability immediately admitted her, as it always did.

 

Oddly,  _ that  _ thought—that her father wouldn’t make Lily wait, even if she knocked on his door in the middle of an international summit—revived Lily’s anger.

 

She was so tired of her entire life being dictated by Who Harry Potter Was, she could scream. And the idea that she would always be his daughter first and his colleague second made her want to scream harder.

 

But then, when the doors parted and she strode into her father’s grand office, and saw him standing there on the other side of a cluttered desk and his hair standing on end, she couldn’t bring herself to so much as raise her voice.

 

“Hi, Lil,” he said warmly, but his expression was guarded. “I see you intercepted the confidential notice.”

 

Lily bristled.

 

Her father’s smile remained steady. “I’m impressed, actually. Do you have someone in the Minister’s office, or have you befriended one of the poor hapless couriers?”

 

Lily frowned, and her hesitation tipped him off. Of course. Her father had been an Auror for decades.

 

“Ah, none of the above. It was the  _ girlfriend _ then.”

 

“She’s not…”

 

“Right, right. The—well, wait, what is she then?”

 

“A friend,” Lily lied tersely, agitated again. “You can’t just stall me until I forget I’m mad. I’m way too mad.”

 

Finally, his smile faltered, and he sighed and sat in his worn leather office chair as though suddenly exhausted. The abrupt change alarmed Lily, but she didn’t let her concern overpower her anger.

 

She looked around the room at the juxtaposition of all her father’s careworn furniture and decor against the grandeur of the space. The Ministry had been intent on glorifying their Saviour, whether he liked it or not. His office was easily twice as grand as the Minister’s, and if he ever happened to let a political opinion slip, it had ten times the influence.

 

“I understand why you’re upset, Lily. When I left you off that list, I had good reasons. I hope you can believe me.”

 

“What reasons?”

 

His mouth tightened. “I can’t tell you that.”

 

“I’m an Auror too,” she reminded him quietly. “I’m not just your kid anymore.”

 

He nodded. “I’m well-aware of that. You’re going to be a much better Auror than I am, too. I didn’t leave you out because you’re my daughter.”

 

“Then why? You don’t think I’m good enough yet?” It was the only logical alternative, and she found that the idea of her father not believing in her was deeply painful, much worse than the belief he was acting in a misguided effort to protect her.

 

“If I could, I’d tell you, Lils, but I just can’t.”

 

“Right,” Lily said dully.

 

“Well, I hope you can forgive me,” he said, his voice strange. Lily narrowed her eyes.

 

No pleading look? No explanation? No lecture about accepting life’s mysteries and disappointments?

 

She was so flustered, she stood up and grasped the first hurtful thing that came to mind. “So do I,” she said coldly, and stalked out.

 

Beth waited by the lifts, chewing on her fingernails, eyes bright and anxious. Lily remembered what her father had assumed, and acknowledged that Beth  _ was _ pretty, and they  _ did _ spend a lot of time together. Lily hadn’t made a lot of time for dating even when she was at Hogwarts, and the idea that she could do so  _ now _ baffled her. No one had ever tempted her to try, including Beth.

 

“Are you alright?” Beth murmured when Lily was close, touching Lily’s arm then jerking her hand back. It wasn’t a new gesture, this brief, self-conscious contact, but in light of her father’s comments Lily was hyper-aware of its possible implications.

 

“Yeah,” Lily said, folding her arms and moving away just enough they couldn’t touch accidentally. “Of course I am.”

 

The Lifts opened and a petite woman in a cowl came out, jostling Lily. 

 

“Sorry,” Lily said automatically, looking down at her arm, where the woman had briefly grasped her while regaining her balance. The hand was a small one, pale as an opal, and its owner swiftly snatched it back. Lily looked up at the woman’s face too late to catch sight of her; she was already turning and walking toward the Head Auror’s office.

 

But people were always doing that, so Lily thought nothing of it.

 

* * *

 

_ Harry walked into the Forest. It was warm, and the Forest’s magic took inventory as he entered and grudgingly let him pass. _

 

_ The stars were out, and Sirius was bright. Harry stowed the sight of it in his mind’s eye, thinking, as he often did, that he was older now than Sirius ever was. Older than his parents, collectively, at the time of their deaths. Lily was 20; soon she’d be older than any of them too. What a notion. What a war. _

 

_ A handful of fairies coasted by, carrying small lanterns, eyeing Harry without comment down their tiny hooked noses. Harry politely avoided eye contact and inclined his head. No reason to pick a fight. _

 

_ The darkness was total after the fairies’ lights faded. Harry reached for his wand before he remembered it wasn’t there, and he’d have to navigate the dark, the trees, and what awaited him there alone. _

 

* * *

 

_ 5 Years Later _

 

“Potter, would you check in, for fuck’s sake?”

 

Lily winced at the volume of the voice in her ear and a moment later it came again, more softly.

 

“Potter, check in?”

 

Lily looked to her left and back again, the signal for “okay,” and tried not to be annoyed that she was connected to her partner through Muggle technology and not by magic. Even three years into the combined law-enforcement program, she couldn’t get used to it.

 

She jogged up the stairs leading to the entrance of the dark, ramshackle townhouse. A cracked window was repaired with fraying silver duct tape, and something had broken the light bulb in the bare fixture in the entry. The hair on the back of Lily’s neck stood on end.

 

“Is it the place?” her partner asked softly.

 

Lily looked left, took a deep breath, and drew her wand.

 

She felt a deep rush of adrenaline and satisfaction as her magic connected to the wand core. She ignored the cautionary whispers from her partner and stepped into the darkness.

 

The ozone odor of an anti-electricity ward and a magical containment field in close proximity made Lily’s nose itch. But her magic flowed with more strength and clarity than it ever could immersed in the Muggle world, where it was suffocated by myriad grids of electricity, wireless signals, and the like. The feeling of magical empowerment was so heady, she had to consciously remind herself why she was there to keep from being completely distracted. 

 

The plush carpet underfoot belied the shabby exterior of the building. If she’d had lingering doubts about the nature of the place, they would have been eradicated by the sight of sconces lit with the cool flames of  _ Incendio, _ harmlessly licking the glossy brocade wallpaper.

 

“Good evening,” came a low, smooth voice. A young man stepped out of the shadows, reminding Lily distinctly of a vampire in an old movie. He was pale, slender, deliberately effeminate. He was in a simple, white, collared shirt which was unbuttoned halfway down his rib cage, and he had tousled black hair. He wore red rouge and lipstick. His feet were bare under the cuffs of his black jeans.

 

“Can I help you?” he purred, stepping closer. He was young; much younger than Lily. The sight of him made her angry and disgusted her. Then she felt a wave of shame over her disgust.

 

Before she had to come up with a reply, he saw her wand and his entire demeanor changed. His soft pout turned into a harsh, tight frown, his doe eyes narrowed and he straightened from his demur slouch to square his shoulders and cross his arms.

 

“This isn’t a street corner, darling. We’re a private business, so take yours elsewhere.”

 

Lily stowed her wand and pasted on an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. I’m not here to step on your toes, I swear. I’m just stopping to see a friend, if she’s working? Or is that not allowed?”

 

“It’s not,” the boy said coldly. Lily wondered if he was even of age.

 

“Oh, sorry. But maybe I could leave her a message? It’s hard to reach her, you know. Since the whole thing with the owls.”

 

People were shooting them on sight, and had been for years. Anyone who cared either about the safety of the birds or the reliable delivery of correspondence used the Ministry’s Floo Mail, but they heavily regulated their new invention.

 

The boy looked slightly less annoyed. “Okay,” he said, turning with obvious reluctance to lead her deeper into the building. “There’s some parchment back here.”

 

Lily followed, drawing her wand again and tucking it back into the holster on her forearm, so it wasn’t visible but it would be easy to draw.

 

“Are you Jacob, then?”

 

The boy snorted, shooting her a quick look over his skinny shoulder. “Silas.”

 

“Ah,” she said, as though surprised. “I thought he was just a kid. You look older.”

 

The line of his shoulders relaxed marginally, and his tone shifted. “Well, sweetheart, it’s not the years, it’s the miles.” He stepped behind a little counter that reminded Lily of the hostess station in a restaurant, and put a scrap of spare parchment and a self-inking quill on top, shoving them toward Lily.

 

She hadn’t seen anything so traditional since Hogwarts. Seeming to absorb something from her stare, Silas sighed.

 

“Ambiance,” he explained tersely, then tapped the parchment pointedly with his forefinger. “Come on. You need to get out of here before management comes or you’ll get her in trouble.”

 

Lily looked up with a brow raised. “‘Her’?”

 

“Your friend,” said Liam, looking askance. “It’s Melody, right? I mean, who else would it be?” He raked Lily with a glance. She felt itchy beneath her glamour, which she always wore in the field—her father’s condition, and one she had grudgingly honored even though he was…

 

“I’ll just—” she nodded at the parchment. He moved his hand so she could set the quill on it and scratch out a note. She didn’t have to exaggerate much to ensure Silas couldn’t read it without a decoder and a squint. Her handwriting had always been abominable.

 

_ Melody, I stopped by. Just wanted to make sure things are a-okay. If they are, drop me a rock. _

 

“Great,” Silas muttered, taking the parchment and stuffing it in his pocket as soon as she set down the quill. “Now show yourself out,” he added quietly as a couple of wide-eyed Muggle men rounded the corner. “I’ve got customers.”

 

Lily went back out the way she’d come.

 

“Great work,” her partner said in her ear, and she managed not to wince. “I wasn’t sure about going in like that without waiting for another team, but you got lucky. Now...Potter, what are you…?”

 

Lily didn’t stop at the doors. She kept walking, across the entryway toward a dark hall opposite the one where she’d found Liam. There was a dense, palpable magic in the air in that direction, dark as midnight and with the signature allure of an advanced ritual in its formative steps.

 

If she didn’t investigate, it might be too late for whomever was going to be asked to bleed into the rune circle whether they wanted to or not.

 

Her partner knew better than to waste his breath, but she heard his sigh and could imagine how pale and angry he must look.

 

“I’ll call for reinforcements now. I don’t condone this, Potter,” he said sharply, and then the little device in her ear finally went quiet.

 

The layout of this side of the building was different. Instead of a corridor studded with rooms, there was one open space, torchlight flickering over dark red carpet and spare furnishings: two sofas, a circular table, a carved chair with a threadbare cushion. The magic was wafting down the open staircase beyond, so Lily followed it.

 

The carpeting silenced her footfalls as she climbed the stairs, one hand resting lightly on the glossy bannister, the other loose at her side and ready to draw her wand. The stairs curved and then transitioned to a straight, steep upward slope. As she came round the bend, voices she’d been unable to hear before fell on her ears with perfect clarity.

 

A low, calm baritone: “Hold her there.”

 

A breathy whisper: “Please, don’t…”

 

A voice bubbling with mirth: “Yes, yes, just like that.”

 

Lily didn’t recognize them, but the subject matter was easy for her to discern. She ignored her nausea and advanced up the stairs cautiously, one at a time, hoping they’d be too absorbed in what they were doing to notice her at all.

 

In the end, she wasn’t quite that lucky. She felt the fine web of a tripwire ward against her left thigh about half a second too late to keep from breaking it. As it snapped, it coiled tightly around each of her ankles and she tumbled gracelessly back down several stairs to the landing.

 

Somehow, she managed to keep her wand, but she was too dizzy and disoriented to make good use of it, and it was quickly torn from her hand by  _ Expelliarmus _ .

 

“Well, well,” said the mirthful voice. “If it isn’t an armed intruder. Balforn, can you do the ID spell?”

 

Lily frowned at that, blinking harder. Someone was hauling her to her feet in a way that would dislocate her arm if she didn’t scramble to get her feet beneath her.

 

“Not while holding the ritual together,” said the baritone.

 

Finally, Lily managed an almost-effective squint. Balforn and the grinning one stood a few steps above her. A third clutched her arm. Lily glanced over at them first. They had a pockmarked face, a scar twisting their lower lip, and two missing fingers on the hand that grasped her arm. They were strong, though, and had lustrous dark hair steaming down their broad back.

 

Above her, the other two continued to consider her, heads cocked toward one another like a pair of birds. “Maybe we should ask her?” The laughing one was smiling even now, though their eyes were hard. They were both petite, one long-haired and one close-cropped, both rusty blond, both with pale blue eyes. Twins, or at least siblings.

 

“Well?” prodded Balforn, but Lily could tell they weren’t surprised when she said absolutely nothing in reply.

 

“We’ll have to deal with her after we finish,” Balforn said tersely. Lily saw that they were the one holding her wand, and ground her teeth at the sight.

 

“I suppose,” agreed the laughing one, an eager gleam in their eye. Balforn handed Lily’s wand to the laughing one, turned and stalked up the stairs.

 

Lily’s escort somehow tightened their grip and towed her after them, Lily stumbling to keep up. She realized as they moved that her ankle was badly twisted, though probably not broken. And her ribs were possibly cracked, or at least badly bruised. Every breath and movement was agonizing.

 

But Lily had trained herself for this kind of thing, taking her own measures which went beyond what the Aurors’ training program provided. She called upon her latent magic intermingled with Occlumency, a cocktail that the mind healers frowned upon but which was undeniably effective, and maintained her focus despite the stomach-turning pain of each step she hobbled up.

 

At the top of the stairs where Lily had hit the tripwire, the carpet gave way to a glossy onyx tile, dark but gleaming, that strange combination of colorlessness and the impression of light. It was on the walls and ceiling, too, and the room it framed appeared circular, which shouldn’t be possible given the way the building was built.

 

In the center of that room a rune circle was lit and active, forming a ring around the prone body of a naked, trembling person, bound tightly in black cloth so only the head, arms and legs were visible, and tightly blindfolded too.

 

The sacrifice heard them enter and began pleading in the same voice Lily had heard before from the stairs. “No, no, please.”

 

Lily’s heart sank at the color emanating from the runes: pale green. It was too late for the sacrifice. There was no way the magic would let them leave the circle alive, even if Lily could interrupt the ritual.

 

“Please, please…”

 

Seething in a helpless rage, Lily tried to tune the voice out. It was a child’s voice. But maybe everyone reverted to being childlike in circumstances like these; fear and helplessness stripping away the armor of experience and maturity.

 

Lily’s silent escort deposited her against the wall, where she had an unfortunately clear view of the circle. They had fine rope tucked into a pocket somewhere which they used to tightly bind her wrists to her ankles, painfully arching her back in a way that was merciless on her tender ribs. For a few perilous minutes she struggled against the threat of unconsciousness.

 

When she was truly aware again, her head was pounding in time with her pulse, as though someone was applying a steel hammer to her temple, and her eyes were watering freely. But she could see the ritualists in the circle. The two who looked alike. Their companion waited outside, one eye on Lily, the other on the doorway. They were truly enormous, almost the size of the other two combined.

 

“Now, call me, Balforn,” said the laughing one.

 

“I call you, Tripnee,” replied Balforn. “I call you my sister in blood and I call you womb-sharer. Now, call me, Tripnee.”

 

“I call you, Balforn,” said Tripnee. “I call you my brother in blood and I call you womb-sharer. Now, let our magic be called and united.”

 

Lily bit her tongue to ground herself in a fresh, sharp pain. The words were vaguely familiar. And the arc of light that ignited between the twins was clearly depicted in some resource Lily had studied once but now, infuriatingly, couldn’t place…

 

And, inexplicably, the rune circle’s green glow wavered, brightened, and blazed red.

 

The arcing light sharpened, and in its lancing path, drew blood.

 

The ritualists fell to their knees and tried haplessly to shield themselves while the loop of power burned and bled them like lightning. The smell of blood and burnt flesh filled the room, and Lily’s already vulnerable stomach was overcome. She rolled onto her side, wrenching her bound limbs in the process, so she wouldn’t choke on her own bile.

 

And then she lost the battle with her own body, and slipped toward unconsciousness. The last thing she could make out was a foggy image of the blood-bathed bodies of Tripnee and Balforn as the light between them went out.

 

Balforn was still. Tripnee lay over him, half-draped over the sacrifice, who was painted almost entirely red just by proximity, howling with all the energy they had left. As the sacrifice’s scream became hoarse and silent, Lily heard the hoarse cry of Tripnee’s Dying Oath.

 

_ “AND I CURSE THE ONE WHO KILLED ME IN DECEIT, AND WHOSE NAME IS DELPHINI.” _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Wolf_of_Lilacs for beta reading <3

When Lily woke up, she was at New St. Mungo’s, in a narrow hospital bed with side rails. All of her brothers were there, asleep in the hideously uncomfortable hospital chairs they’d crammed into the small room.

She had an IV dripping a pearly silver potion into her wrist that she recognized as a standard magical replenishment brew, but she sight of the needle made her instantly anxious. Hearing her little whimper, James, who always slept lightly and was closest to her bedside, jerked awake.

“Lily,” he breathed. “Oh, Merlin, you’re okay.” Then he burst into tears and buried his face in the blankets rumpled around her stomach, waking up the rest of them.

Albus, Teddy and Hugo were hovering over her at once, peering closely at her and asking questions in whispers that felt like needles her still-sensitive eardrums. Seeing her wince, they all fell abruptly silent.

“It’s just my head,” she said nonsensically. James and Albus nodded hesitantly while Hugo and Teddy exchanged a look.

“I’m going to find a healer,” Teddy muttered, his hair turning from black to flame-red as he looked back and forth between James and Albus, like he was asking for permission. Neither of them looked away from Lily, though, so after a moment he made up his own mind and left.

“That was a close call, you berk,” said Albus to Lily, patting James, whose tears still streamed down his cheeks. “Why do you always insist on being a hero?”

“Apples and trees, you know,” said James, wiping his nose and smiling fondly at Lily. After a moment, Albus and Teddy adopted similar expressions.

It was the way they acted when they were thinking about Lily’s father. Fond and sad, as though he had died five years before. Because that was exactly what each of them believed.

Lily didn’t have the energy for this old argument right now, so she cast around for a change in subject.

“Where’s Scott?”

James went from teary to murderous in an instant. “He’s _not_ on administrative leave, but only because the Minister is a spineless Hippogriff-fucker.”

Lily blinked. That was creative swearing, even James. “What are you talking about? I mean Scott, my partner.”

“James thinks Scott should have called in reinforcements sooner,” Albus said, with deliberate patience. He looked a lot like their father, gazing at James like he was a puzzle Albus was still sorting out.

“Huh. Well, it all happened so fast. And our nearest backup was across town on a call—it isn’t as though they could just Apparate.”

James shrugged and looked away. Lily’s eyes narrowed, but before she could say one of the dozen things that came to mind at the suspicion James was illegally Apparating, the door flung open and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione came in.

* * *

Later, Lily was curled up on her side, half-asleep with her head pillowed on Aunt Hermione’s lap, while her Aunt carded her hair back from her face with cool fingertips. She felt closer to twelve than twenty-three, but couldn’t bring herself to be very troubled by it.

“What’s the point of the combined forces if they can’t neutralize places like that from the outside in?” Uncle George had been saying some variation of the same thing since he came in twenty minutes before. He’d assumed Lily was asleep, and though she was grateful to every family member who came through the door, she didn’t necessarily want to correct the misimpression, either. She was more tired than she could ever recall.

“I imagine,” Aunt Hermione said carefully, “that Lily was meant to wait for some sort of reinforcements.”

Lily fought a sudden urge to stir. But her Aunt was right, after all. It couldn’t be more obvious in hindsight.

“She’s probably the only reason the other girl made it out of there alive,” said Uncle Ron quietly. Everyone paused when he spoke, as they tended to do. In the past few years her Uncle had gone from forceful, sunny extroversion to quiet, contemplative and slow to weigh in. Hugo told Lily once he’d gone three days without saying a word. “Anyone who expects Lily to do the prudent thing, rather than the brave thing, hasn’t been paying attention.”

Lily heard her Aunt make a soft, huffing noise through her nose. From somewhere further away, Uncle George laughed. Then Lily was really asleep, and overheard nothing more.

* * *

_When Lily woke again, she was alone. Her grandmother was sleeping in the chair where Lily had last opened her eyes to see James. Someone had transfigured it into a lumpy armchair, though. Her head lolled against a pillow adhered to the seatback with a sticking charm._

_Lily bit her lip and pulled her IV loose. She wore a hospital gown, flimsy and weightless, so that she felt naked as she walked barefoot over the cold floor toward the door and tried the handle. It gave, so she eased the silent door open and slipped into the corridor._

_A nurse saw her, but didn’t intervene as Lily wandered toward a floor to ceiling window at the end of the hallway. A girl leaned against the windowsill there, which was wide enough for her to perch her hip on it. She had a tumble of silver hair half-pinned into a knot at the back of her head, away from her face. Her eyes, when she turned and Lily saw her directly, were an opaque black._

_Not a girl, Lily revised, but a woman. Older than Lily, though maybe not by much. She had the leanness of adulthood in her face. And she was beautiful, ethereal, wearing gauzy white trousers and a black cloak. She didn’t seem real, and Lily registered that none of this was. She was dreaming._

_“Another near miss, Lily,” said the woman. “Whatever were you thinking?” There was a mocking tone to the chiding words. She rose from the windowsill and floated to Lily like a ghost, her knees bent so that her toes almost skimmed the floor. When she was close, though, she reached out and cupped Lily’s cheek with a very corporeal, if cool, palm. “I won’t stay long, only I wanted to check on you.”_

_Then she coasted a little closer, her eyes brightening with mischief. Lily felt a glimmer of recognition, though that couldn’t be right. She’d never seen this woman before._

_“For luck,” said the woman. She tugged at Lily’s messy braid where it lay over her shoulder. Lily looked down at the pale hand against her dark red hair, and while she was distracted the woman’s face came closer and their lips met._

_Lily was used to the vivid taste and feel of this kind of dream. Unlike reality, where kisses always seemed to fall flat, dreams contained that impression of total bliss that physical intimacy seemed to promise, before she’d begun any actual, waking-world experiments. But even compared to the sexy-dream standard, this kiss felt vibrant, enlivening, though it was quite brief._

_The woman pulled back, though Lily realized, now that she had to look down to meet her eyes, that she was standing on her feet. Where her cheeks had been colorless alabaster, they were now bright pink._

_“It’s a pity this isn’t what happens,” said the woman, and disappeared._

* * *

Lily woke to find Grandmother sleeping in a transfigured version of the chair where Lily had first found James. Blinking, she sat up without rousing anyone. Not her grandmother and not her brothers, crammed together into the little sofa against the wall.

Already awake, though, if she’d slept at all, was Rose, sitting opposite their grandmother and leaning forward to smile at Lily.

“Hello. I hear you’ve been an idiot.”

Lily smiled wryly, leaning back against the headboard with a quick glance at Grandmother.

“Don’t worry,” Rose snorted. “She can barely hear when she’s awake. We won’t bother her. And the boys are under a Silencing Charm.” Rose drew her knees up in front of her and looped her arm around them, then rested her chin on her shoulder. “Your partner’s been asking to see you, and the family’s been saying no. What do you want?”

Lily considered that. It was kind of Scott to care, but Lily didn’t feel any particular closeness or affection for him. Still, seeing him would be the right thing to do, and they did have a fairly functional working relationship. She wouldn’t want to screw that up by being selfish. “I think that would be okay.”

Rose nodded, untangling herself and sliding out of the chair. “I got you some slippers,” she said, setting them on the bed next to Lily. “He’s probably just out in the hallway.”

Rose’s prediction was correct. Scott was slumped against the wall with his head down and his hands in his pockets. The sun was rising and casting dense rays of reddish-gold light through a window at the end of the hallway. For some reason that caught Lily’s eye. Not the stream of light, but the shape of the glass, the empty windowsill beneath. Frowning, she shook herself and looked back at her partner. He’d straightened up as she’d emerged and was looking anxiously at her.

“Potter, Jesus Christ,” he managed eventually, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. He was taller even than Lily, two or three times her age and going grey; a very ordinary-looking person. More importantly, though, he was an experienced Muggle officer, committed to the combined forces, and a good advocate for magical integration. She felt a wave of regret for being so constantly dismissive of him. He was a good person, and she was lucky to be partnered with him. “I knew you were alive, but that was about all. You look good?”

“We’re hard to kill,” she agreed. “I’m well on my way to being just fine.”

“That’s good. Jesus.” He swore a lot for someone whom she’d seen cross himself at a particularly macabre crime scene. Then he looked at her again, now half-guilty. Grinning, Lily realized why.

“It’s okay. We can debrief.”

He continued to look shamefaced, but also hopeful. “Really? I don’t want to wear you out.”

“Yeah, we should. I assume they’ll want my memories soon, but I’ll tell you what I can recall myself.”

There were a couple of chairs outside the door to Lily’s hospital room, and Scott insisted she sit down “and rest” while she talked. Lily drew her wand to cast _Muffliato_. He sat across from her at a casual distance, resting his elbows on his knees, his right foot vibrating with eagerness. Lily could relate. If their positions were reversed, then she would be pressuring him to tell her everything. Once she was in the ritual space, the surveillance equipment would have been fried. In fact, it had probably become unreliable within a few minutes of her time in the building, so he hadn’t seen or heard much at all for himself.

She described the setting, the people, her note to Melody, and then paused, looking sharply at Scott. He looked surprised, and smiled faintly. He looked left, then right, his gaze lingering at the empty nurse’s station. Lily didn’t mention that she’d already cast a _Muffliato_ and he didn’t need to worry. He only half-trusted magic, and maybe he was wise to have his doubts.

“Yeah, we got Melody’s signal. We extracted her when we came for you. She’s a little banged up, but she’ll be alright.”

Lily let out a deep breath. Melody had been embedded long past the point they’d originally planned. It was an enormous relief to know that she was finally out. And also—”Has she been debriefed?”

Scott caught her eye briefly, then shrugged one shoulder. “She’s in the middle of it. Her strength comes and goes.”

Lily’s eyes widened. “Just ‘a little banged up’?”

He shrugged again. “She’ll be alright.”

Lily snorted, but didn’t belabor the point. She went on with her retelling, slowing down as she began describing the ritual circle and what the various elements represented. Scott’s brow grew increasingly furrowed, but his eyes gleamed with helpless fascination.

“So when the runestones are green…?”

“Lethal to the sacrifice,” Lily said, nodding, feeling her own puzzlement weighing her mouth into a frown. “That should be irreversible. Once the runestones are green, the magic has been promised the life and won’t release it. But then, in the middle of the ritual, the light changed to red. I’ve never heard of anything like that. Active runestones should be blue or green. And I hear the intended sacrifice lived?” They’d certainly been alive when Lily lost consciousness, but she’d wondered if they would die when pulled from the circle, regardless.

“She’s fine,” said Scott, nodding. “I mean, terrified--traumatized--but fine.” Lily generally trusted Scott’s judgment, but realized he definitely didn’t know the definition of “fine.” He went on. “She won’t be debriefed for at least a few days, if then. The social workers have really closed ranks around her.”

That rankled, but Lily supposed she understood. “What I want to know is: who’s this ‘Delphini’?”

Scott looked over at her with a faint, wry smile. “Well, you’re in luck. A ‘Delphini Rowle’ was one of Melody’s IDs.”

* * *

“Oh, yes,” murmured Teddy, finally answering her question now that Lily had repeated herself a third time. “She’s only the List.”

“The List of the Undesirables? I thought she was an American.”

“The International List,” Teddy clarified. He leaned closer to Lily’s face and she valiantly suppressed the urge to punch him in the nose. However, he seemed to see the warning signs on her face and hastily drew back, his hands raised in surrender.

“Sorry, but you look tired.” When that didn’t impress her, he cautiously took a full step backward. “I mean, it makes sense that you’d need rest. Preferably away. From this horrible place.” He gestured around his office, but presumably he meant the Ministry itself, and not his workspace on the DoM level.

“I don’t need rest. I need to warn someone about a Dying Oath.”

Teddy’s brows rose, and his hair went slightly red, the way it tended to when he was paying close attention to someone else. “Well, I don’t think an aspiring dark lord deserves your warning. Let it run its course. It’d be for the greater good.”

Lily glared at him, but it was more due to the choice of words than the sentiment. It was the sort of thing people their age said to be edgy, but that would set off anyone old enough to have lived through any bit of Grindelwald’s rise and fall.

“What can you tell me about her?”

He shrugged. “You know, the usual. Vast inherent power, doesn’t stay in one place, recruited something of a following, but nothing too terrible yet. Made up a silly name for herself.”

“What name?”

“The Augurey.”

Lily’s nose wrinkled. “Like those horrible birds?”

Teddy shrugged. “Well, they’re frightening, anyway.”

“Wait,” Lily said, as recognition struck. “I’ve heard of the Augurey. Isn’t she a Seer?”

Teddy nodded. “Yeah, they’re not absolutely sure, but the DoM is pretty certain that they’re one and the same. The Augerey is Delphini Rowle.”

“And she’s an American, then? With the last name ‘Rowle’?” The Rowles were the sort who rarely left British soil and when they did, acted like even the latent magic might taint their pure British cores.

“Adopted, probably,” Teddy said.

“I remember when we broke up that band of neo-Death-Eaters last year. They credited the Augerey with about ninety percent of their success, when they eventually confessed.” Lily was struck by a sudden, vivid thought, and her gaze snapped to Teddy’s.

“If I warn her about the Dying Oath, I’ll save her life,” Lily reminded him, and watched his brows creep further up his forehead as he went fully ginger before her eyes. He even popped a few freckles. “Your Metamorphagus is showing. And to think the Ministry thought you’d make the perfect undercover asset,” she sighed with mock-chagrin. Teddy blushed and scowled halfheartedly at her.

“So you want to incur a Life Debt, do you? Are you sure you’re not a Slytherin?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Please, don’t offend me.”

“Never,” Teddy said, huffing out a half-laugh. “I may be a foolhardy lion, but we know better than to provoke a badger.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw and gave her a faraway look, until his hair had reverted to a neutral brown. “What need do you have to poke around in the future, Lil? Going to try for the Muggle lotto?”

“They don’t let us play,” she reminded him. She understood the logic, there, except that there was nothing to stop someone interfering with magic and sending a Muggle stand-in, of course. “And you know a Seer doesn’t _only_ see the future. They can see the present, too.” Lily looked down at her hands, which she’d linked casually over her knee to keep them still. “They can find people.”

She didn’t look up to see Teddy’s reaction, but she heard him make a small, injured noise, and bit the inside of her cheek.

“Lily, that’s not…”

She looked up fiercely. “And, anyway,” she said, as though she hadn’t noticed Teddy’s crumpled expression, or the black color staining his hair from root to end in a slow progression, like spilled ink. “Who are you to say that someone doesn’t deserve to have their life saved, before she’s even had a trial? Maybe everything they say about her is rumor.”

Teddy snorted, but he didn’t try to argue with her. He knew her far too well for that. “Yeah. Wouldn’t be the first time the Ministry was dead wrong. Your dad was—”

“Undesirable Number One,” Lily said, nodding, her smile pained but determined.

Teddy sighed. “Don’t you dare tell anyone in the family that we had this conversation. Particularly if their last name is ‘Potter.’ Or worse, ‘Weasley.’”

She drew her finger across her lips in a metaphorical seal, watching with interest as Teddy stepped around his desk and opened a drawer.

“Here,” he said, setting down a sheaf of scrolls, bound in black ribbon, nudging them across the desk toward Lily. She leaned forward and picked them up, quickly unrolling the end of one at random. It was a labeled map, familiar to Lily at a glance as the one of the records Aurors kept on suspects or persons of interest, and which would show the places they’d last been seen, and when. This was the first time she’d seen one where the little, wavering, flame-like lightsthat indicated a sighting spotted not just a continent but three-quarters of a world map.

“Thanks, Teddy,” she said sincerely, with a quick glance up at him. He was rubbing his face again, and winced, like her gratitude hurt him. She was puzzled, but he shifted his expression into a smile as she watched, and the moment passed.

“Just be careful, okay, Lil? There’s only so much loss we can all take.”

That stung, to have the weight of her family’s heartbreak on her shoulders, but Lily couldn’t fault Teddy. He hadn’t put it there, only reminded her she already carried it.

“Well, likewise,” she said lightly, standing up and looking around his untidy office like it was the Forbidden Forest with an exaggerated shudder. “You could bleed to death from paper-cuts in this place.”

Lily walked out of the Ministry through the exits to Muggle London, and felt, at once, the way her magic shrunk back in on itself, a dull, dense pebble in her chest where there had been warm, open energy. The sensation made her pause, coming to a full standstill on the sidewalk, until someone pushed past, sneering at her robes, and startled her back into motion.

* * *

_Lily walked out of the Ministry through the exit to Muggle London, and before she could shudder at the always-unnerving sensation of her magic recoiling from the Muggle world, a cool hand closed over her elbow._

_Surprised, Lily looked down into the cowled face of a woman with white-blond hair, pearl-smooth complexion, and eyes like onyx. She was a head shorter than Lily, but there was something about her, beyond beauty alone, that made Lily feel very small beside her._

_“Looking for me, Lily?”_

****

Lily boarded the underground and let it take her to her part of the city the slow way. If James really was Apparating, she wished he’d tell her how he was getting away with it. There was a spot on her elbow that felt tingly and strange; she rubbed it absently as she took a seat and leaned her forehead against the cool window.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another great beta by Wolf_of_Lilacs on this chapter. <3

_The Forest felt like a single, cautious organism. Every stem and leaf watching with bated breath. Harry followed the path, not daring to hesitate at the fork. Instead, he stayed to the right, the tangle of underbrush thicker here, slowing his way._

_or;_

_The Forest was watching him, but Harry had expected that. He was thinking of his family as he came in. Of his children. How they were already motherless, and soon they would be fatherless, too. A wave of grief struck him, and as he paused to catch his breath, he realized he was at the fork in the path._

_He looked to the left, and as soon as he made that mistake, it was the only way he could take. He stumbled forward, his heart rabbit-fast in his chest._

_or;_

_The Forest watched and waited. But Harry Potter didn’t come. It had always been a possibility, and in its heart the Forest was unsurprised._

* * *

Going to America was even more dramatic than Lily expected. It involved a ship that looked like something out of one of Lily’s childhood books about Vikings, and a midnight escort out to the dock where Lily was instructed to meet it.

“There’s nothing here,” Lily said, frowning as she looked out over the water. It was still and reflective, a black mirror showing a blurrier version of the moon and the carpet of stars.

Next to her on the dock, Scott frowned. “Well…” He peered down at the note on his phone, the square of light from the screen surprisingly bright. It illuminated his puzzled frown. “It’s a magic boat? Right? It could be invisible.” He peered at her. “Couldn’t it?”

Lily nodded, somehow remaining straight-faced. “Yes. I don’t think it is, though.”

“Oh? Would you _know_?”

Lily considered her answer. She tapped her forefinger against her wand, concealed in the holster on her opposite forearm, and wondered for the thousandth time whether she’d ever fully trust a Muggle. Even the one she was partnered with.

As it turned out, Lily didn’t have to answer. Their conversation was interrupted by a low, rushing noise as a surge of water welled up then slapped the dock. An outburst of small, isolated splashes appeared over the surface of the water. Then a carved figurehead crested, glossy with wet and so realistically carved that for an instant, Lily thought it was a live mermaid rather than the prow of a ship. But a half-second later, the sloping hull began to emerge and the sails broke through, snapping to shake off a shower of water. Within thirty seconds, an enormous, Scandinavian-looking craft sat at the dock whimsical and ancient.

For once, Lily was as surprised as Scott. She managed to close her mouth and glanced at him just as he recovered enough to do the same, and the stare they exchanged was wide-eyed. Before they could speak, a few lines snaked out of the ship’s interior seemingly of their own volition, wrapping tightly around the anchor points on the dock and drawing the ship in snugly next to the wooden structure.

Three men appeared, squat-bodied and wearing crested helmets and dense beards, and opened a hinged place in the railing. They shoved a few long planks from the deck of the ship and onto the dock, and a fourth, even larger man spat forcefully on the wood. When the saliva landed, the planks wobbled and shuddered and remolded from a few detached pieces of wood into a sturdy, melded bridge.

“YOU MAY BOARD!” called the large man, looking down at them beadily. Lily winced at the way his sharp call seemed to echo off the silent water, and raised a hand to signal she’d heard and understood. Then she turned to Scott.

“Well,” he said, brisk. “Don’t die.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Maybe she should introduce Scott to Teddy. For now she punched him on the shoulder, harder than she intended to, and he grunted and glared at her.

“Ditto,” Lily told him, and then he smiled his slow, reluctant smile, and they nodded to one another before Lily struck off to board.

* * *

The large man was named Njal, and he looked even more imposing up close. Lily, unaccustomed to being towered over, was charmed by his raucous laughter and tendency to spit onto the floor between his scuffed laced boots, then Vanish the little mess. Lily’s grandmother would have had a fit.

The below-decks were cramped. “Once, we could fit the contents of a dragon’s lair down here and still have room for a feast and dancing,” Njal said sadly, indicating a small room with built-in, bunked beds along one wall, which Lily would have to herself during the journey.

“I’ve heard a lot of stories about wizarding space, but that might be the best one,” Lily said, smiling at the thought of a banquet hall where presently there was just enough room for her to take three steps in any given direction, and the ceiling brushed the bristly red crest on Njal’s hammered-metal helmet.

“Alas,” Njal said, determinedly cheerful. “At least we’re still permitted out on the sea. Many of our people have been condemned to a life on the shore.”

“Oh?” Lily was surprised. “I thought there was a pretty good market for trans-oceanic magical travel?” Even the Muggles used it sometimes, supposedly.

“Not everyone is willing to compromise their worldview,” Njal said. “Some couldn’t give up the traditional ways.”

Lily looked back at him without understanding. He sighed.

“The _old_ , very _traditional_ ways,” he said, more slowly, as though that would help.

“He means the thieving and pillaging,” supplied one of Njal’s men, who looked so much like the other two behind his dark, bushy beard, she wasn’t sure whether he was Svend, Toke, or Ulf.

Njal jerked his head around and scowled, giving Lily the opportunity to stifle her smile. “Ah,” she said solemnly. “Yeah, I get it.”

“So how long ‘til we arrive?” Lily asked, digging her shrunken luggage out of her pocket and returning it to normal size.

“Well, she’s a small whale, but…” began one of Njal’s black-bearded brethren.

“Tcha!” Njal interjected.

“Why?” asked the smaller man, indignant. “She’s got red hair, hasn’t she?”

Njal looked back at Lily with a thoughtful look. Lily, who had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, blinked at them and waited for enlightenment.

“I suppose. We have a small whale on this journey, you see, but she’s fast for her size. Hard telling what she’ll do in rough waters, though.”

“A small...whale,” Lily repeated.

“Yes. How do you s’pose we travel? Magic?” Njal promptly burst into roaring laughter at his own joke, backed out of the room, and with a little parting wave shut the door.

Lily fell asleep listening to the sound of water rushing past the hull at high speeds, imagining a whale in a harness swimming ahead of the mermaid on the prow.

The magical world was her world, yes, but it never ceased to surprise and amaze her.

* * *

They changed whales twice. That was a mysterious affair where Njal posted a guard by Lily’s door, citing a privacy agreement with the whales themselves.

The ship tilted alarmingly during the second change, and Lily looked wide-eyed at a man she was fairly sure by this point was Toke. He smiled at her reassuringly.

“We’re on the ocean floor, and sometimes we tip a bit more than the stabilization spells can account for.”

Lily wondered why that explanation was supposed to make her feel better.

“If it was up to me,” he added, “I’d let you out to see her. We’re not meant to keep secrets from others who come from the sea.”

“You think I do?” Lily asked, amused. Toke nodded meaningfully toward her head, presumably indicating her red hair, as had come up a couple times before among the crew.

“A viking’s good, and there’s the proof,” he said approvingly.

Lily was almost sorry when they finally arrived, docking on a small island crowded with rickety towers of patched-together houses several stories high, clearly held together and kept upright by old house magic shackled deep in the sandy soil. It was midday and warm. Lily looked around, bemused.

“I thought we were going to the U.S.?” she asked Njal, climbing up to the deck and squinting at the island beyond the dock, its patchwork buildings bright in color and made even more vivid by all the sunlight refracted off the water.

“We have! This is Taylorville, in the outer banks,” Njal assured her. “An old wizarding district that they let MACUSA keep.”

Interested, Lily followed him off the ramp and onto the swaying dock, giving the ship a wistful farewell glance over her shoulder.

The people wore a variety of attire that Lily recognized as a range of traditional wizarding dress. Wands were carried in the open. Lily wasn’t used to seeing so many people behaving openly non-Muggle outside of their homes in her entire life. A few women were wading in the surf with their robes hiked up, and waved cheerily at Lily. She waved back, watching one remove her peaked hat, shake it out, and release several wriggling silver fish back into the water.

“The whales won’t go any nearer the main land mass,” said Njal. “No one knows why. So from here you’ll be flown.”

Lily nodded. She’d gone over the itinerary with Scott more than once before she left. Still, she smiled reflexively at the thought. “Broomsticks, right?”

Njal nodded and shuddered. “Horrid contraptions.”

“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since they were allowed in Wizarding Britain, but I remember flying on one as a kid. It was fun.”

He grimaced, then reached out and wrung her hand. “Best of luck to you, Ms. Potter. You’ll find Mr. Hughes in the Cackling Gull Tavern.”

“Thank you,” she said, inclining her head. “Traveling with you was a pleasure.”

He gave a surprisingly elegant little bow, then laughed, heading back toward his ship as though the feeling of solid ground made him uneasy. Lily watched the ramp draw back over the deck and the railing close up. Only a few moments later the ship was diving back underwater to rejoin its mysterious whale.

The surface burst into the same strange ripples Lily recalled seeing when the ship arrived at the dock in Britain, and then as the nearer water calmed, she saw a rush of foam in the waves further out. An enormous, sleek whale the color of gunmetal broke through, a shower of water breaking around its blowhole, one white-tipped fin raised as though in a wave. Behind it, the mermaid’s upper half briefly appeared, as well as the very tip of a mast. Then the whale completed the arch of its jump back down underwater, and the ship followed.

Everyone should try a wizarding ship at least once in their life, Lily decided.

The Cackling Gull was easy to find, sporting as it did its namesake herself. A temperamental, red-eyed gull had assumed a buzzard’s posture on the side-elevation sign mounted to the fish-scale-shingle building.

The gull stared down at Lily and made a high-pitched chortling noise like a parrot. “Caw!” it told Lily sharply, and then chortled again.

Lily passed through the green saloon doors below the sign hastily, lest the bird decide to descend upon her, as its intense stare suggested it was considering.

The tavern was quiet inside. Gas lamps flickered on a smattering of round, dark wood tables ringed in curved benches. At the bar beyond, a man in midnight-blue robes swiveled around on the stool as he heard her enter.

“Mr. Hughes?” Lily called hopefully.

“Who asks?” he wanted to know, taking a pull from the glass in his fist.

“Lily Potter.”

His demeanor shifted. He set down the glass and straightened his lapels, smiling grimly. “Oh, yes, Ms. Potter. I was expecting you. Er, I suppose I didn’t know exactly _what_ to expect, save your name.”

He thought she’d be older, and probably shorter. It was a familiar experience for Lily, surprising people by being Otherwise. She smiled stiffly and didn’t comment.

“Would you like some sustenance before we go?” He picked up his glass and tipped it back and forth enticingly. Lily came closer, but shook her head.

“No, but don’t let me interrupt you.”

He took another quick drink, eyeing her curiously over the rim of his glass. “Don’t have time for this kind of nonsense, hm?”

“Generally not,” Lily said bluntly. “Particularly when I’m traveling on official business.”

Mr. Hughes sighed. “Such a stick in the mud. True to stereotype. Both stereotypes.” Lily’s eyes narrowed, her patience already tested, but he added, absently, “British and in law enforcement,” and Lily’s anger left her.

Mr. Hughes finished his drink and led Lily out the back door of the tavern, where empty liquor bottles were adhered to one another for efficient storage in towering stacks that looked like one of those “found object” sculptures that Muggles were so enamored with. Along with the empty bottles were a row of very tattered-looking brooms. Lily eyed them skeptically.

“Don’t be afraid,” Mr. Hughes said absently, like someone reciting a line, and picked the sturdiest-looking broom off the rack, gesturing to the remainder as though telling Lily she should choose her own. She took one that seemed to have the second-most intact bristles. The magic in the handle stirred at her touch. She felt a rush of disappointment in herself for judging a Charmed object based on appearance alone, and stroked the wood lightly with her fingertips in apology.

“We’ll just coast out, staying low, until you’re confident, then when you’re ready to go up a bit higher we’ll cross the water. Piece of cake.” He put one leg over the broomstick and kicked off, leaving Lily with no real choice but to scramble aboard her own broom and attempt to follow.

It was dicey at first, but Lily tried not to think about it too hard, which had served her well with past athletic pursuits. It seemed to work; when she steadied her breath and focused on nothing but the thrill of rising through the air, the broom leveled out and went obediently in the direction she pointed it.

Mr. Hughes was clearly surprised. “Oh, very good! Not a novice, then. Well, come on then, let’s gain a bit of altitude.”

Lily _was_ a novice, of course, but didn’t correct him. She had her mother’s recklessness; or maybe her father’s. It had never been clear. The air grew cold faster than she had expected, and she fumbled for her wand to cast a warming charm. For a terrible moment she imagined dropping it, but her grip stayed steady, the broom gliding smoothly along. The cold wind snapped the incantation from her lips, muting her, but her magic heard. The sun came through the clouds just as she cast, so it almost felt like it was its rays that sparked the sudden, enveloping warmth.

Flying over the short stretch of ocean was rough; the wind came up hard and Lily had to clutch the broom with all the strength in her legs, ignoring the cramps and soreness which set in within minutes, following the wavering outline of Mr. Hughes through coils of fog that rose from the water.

* * *

_Italics_

_The Cackling Gull was easy to find. The gull on the sign could be heard from three blocks away. Its shrill chortling noise was like a cut on Lily’s eardrums and she hurried through the doors in hopes the bird might quiet down when she was out of sight._

_Inside, there were several circular tables and a row of empty stools at the bar. There was only one patron; a woman with silver-blond hair, blue at the tips, balancing a wine glass in the fingertips of her right hand and looking straight at Lily._

_She was very pretty. So pretty that it was likely the first thing anyone noticed about her:_ blond. Pretty. _Lily also noticed the wet curve of her lower lip, and the length of her fingers, and then chided herself for ogling._

_“Hello, Lily,” said the woman, raising her hand and wiggling her fingers in an overly-familiar sort of wave for an American stranger._

_“Do you know Mr. Hughes, then?” Who else would be expecting Lily, but one of his associates?_

_“Not particularly,” said the woman. She set down her glass and rose from the bench where she’d been sitting. The sight of her approaching made Lily nervous, even as she wondered whether the woman was walking or floating the short distance separating them. She wore a long cloak, buttoned snugly to her chin, that made it hard to tell. Then she rose several inches straight up from the floor so that she and Lily were on eye level, removing any doubt._

_“I can’t decide if this is a good idea,” she said softly. It felt, oddly, as though the stranger was continuing a conversation with Lily, but that Lily had missed the first part. Still, she had the strangest sense of deja vu. Familiarity wasn’t the right word, because she found the woman wholly mysterious, but she seemed like a mystery that Lily had been trying to solve for a long time, rather than just a few minutes._

_“What isn’t a good idea?” Lily murmured. She’d never seen anyone Levitate so naturally; she felt the crackle of the wandless magic adjusting the atmosphere and canceling gravity, but somehow without disturbing the perfect fall of the woman’s robes._

_“You,” said the stranger, cocking her head and coming closer yet. Lily took a step back to keep her at arm’s length, her pulse quickening with alarm._

_“Who are you?” she demanded, adrenaline making her voice soft and low, her wand in her hand before she had consciously decided to draw it._

_“Delphini, of course.”_

_Lily’s eyes widened. “Did you know I was looking for you?” Was this what happened, when you sought a Seer? They found you first?_

_“Yes,” Delphini said, closing the distance between them again. She touched Lily’s waist, and Lily had the distinct impression that Delphini was answering the question Lily had thought and not the one she had spoken._

_or;_

_The sign over the door showed definite signs of having been a perch for a bird, though at present it was empty. Lily went through the green doors into the dim interior, and before her vision could adjust to the light, she felt the snap and tight coil of a deft_ Incarcerous _._

_“I’ve decided,” said a woman’s voice, and Lily, struggling, looked up to find a stranger, petite and with startlingly blond hair to the middle of her back, approaching like a specter. “That you’re not a good idea.”_


End file.
